


Stranger Things Have Happened

by guilt_is_for_mortals



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Martin Centric, Martin is soft, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Lonely (Freeform), jon is soft, spoilers up to episode 159
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/pseuds/guilt_is_for_mortals
Summary: I am not alone, dear lonelinessI forgot that I remember this---Martin tries to remember in the lonely. He tries to remember that he is not, in fact, alone.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Stranger Things Have Happened

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently *sad but a happy ending* is now my new thing.
> 
> Might be a bit rambly at times, but that is how I imagine thinking to work in The Lonely.  
> It is a bit harder than usual.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is strongly inspired by Stranger Things Have Happened by the Foo Fighters  
> <3

The sea lay perfectly calm before him. It was always quiet here in the Lonely. Endless beaches of grey sand, flawlessly transitioning into an endless grey expanse of ice cold water.Pale fog that extinguished the last few drops of colors this world might still have had in itself. It was so quiet and almost... peaceful. After everything that had happened. After Sasha... after Tim...  
Martin had walked along the beach for so long, further and further. Silence. Peace. The grey washed away his pain and left it only as a faint shadow wrapped around his heart.  
  
He found the house after... hours? Days? Time did not work in the Lonely like it did in the real world, he could not even remember how long he had been here. The hut was small and dusty and colorless like everything else. Martin entered. The door was old but there was no creaking or squeaking. He didn't look in the cupboards, didn't check if there was food, didn't look for traces of others. There was no one here but him and the quiet and the sea. In the smaller room he found a bed and he sank down on it, stretched out on his back. The ceiling was grey and outside through the little window he could see the wafts of mist winding more tightly around the little hut.

The fog reminded him of something... A vague memory, it took him some effort to remember clearly. Smoke. Martin remembered buying a pack of cigarettes the day he learned that Jon had been a smoker. He had felt strangely daring at the cash register of the small tobacco shop. As if he was a younger version of himself, knowing that he wasn't really allowed to buy cigarettes.   
  
It was a gloomy autumn day and he was freezing as he sat down on the park bench, right under a street lamp. He needed a few attempts to light the cigarette. The smoke burned in his lungs. It tasted horrible and after a few puffs it made his head spin. And yet... for a few moments he could imagine that this was what it would be like to kiss Jon. The taste of smoke on his tongue. Dizzy and gasping, and yet neither of them would want to stop... he remembered. Jon. For a moment he wished Jon was here. 

He had often wondered what it would be like… not necessarily just kissing Jon, but what it would be like… to just spend time with him, time away from the stuffy archives, away from the work that Jon liked to bury himself in. What it would be like to sit there together, in that park. What it would be like if Jon didn't think he was useless, if Jon at least liked him. It had gotten a little better over the years. It had never been bad enough to destroy Martin's feelings. He had developed a crush on his grumpy but handsome boss, more or less the first day he met him. He'd grown to love him a little more, year after year. Martin wasn't quite sure to this day if Jon had ever really liked him at all. Martin had loved him. Had tried everything that he could, but sometimes everything was just not enough, right? And though… he remembered. How much he just wanted to share his time with Jon. He remembered.

And for a moment Martin thought he was seeing colors again. That he felt, actually felt, the cool fabric on which he lay. He could smell the sea. He had not always been here. He had been out there and he had loved, he had loved Jon. All those years, all those feelings. He remembered. He remembered the time he hadn't been alone. He might be here now, in the middle of the Lonely, but he was _not_ alone. There were still people who remembered him. There were still people... maybe there was someone out there who missed him. Who loved him, too... he wasn't alone.

\---

Or maybe he was alone. And the colours disappeared again, the world around him faded, grey and dreary. He shouldn't get his hopes up. No one missed him and no one would come. He was... Jon wouldn't come. And wasn't it better that way? Better to be here than to be there, feeling? That familiar pain, every time his heart broke a little bit, when Jon looked at him like he did... and for a moment Martin thought it might be something, that his feelings might be returned. The pain of seeing Jon lying there in that hospital, not knowing if he was ever gonna wake up. All the tears he had shed over a love that only he could feel. There was no pain in the Lonely. Here there were no feelings. It was so peaceful.  
  


He stared out at the sea again. When had he gone back out to the beach? He didn't remember. He wondered if it would've helped if he had worked harder to change. If he'd worked harder to make himself less weak. He could have changed for Jon, he should have been more competent, he should have worked _so much harder_ . Would it have been enough? Would Jon have wanted this? Would that have been the version of him that Jon could have loved?  
But he hadn't changed. He had been himself, always. He had made tea and he cared, he had refused to be hardened by the world and what happened to all of them. He had grown stronger, yes, but he was still just Martin, soft and... and full of love and pain. He watched the sea begin to move slowly, almost in slow motion. He was still here. He still felt. The waves were getting higher and the sky was getting darker. He wasn't alone. He could almost feel it, he felt...  
  


"Martin..."  
He felt a hand on his, felt the warmth it radiated. He couldn't quite understand. Martin was seeing _him_. He felt... He wasn't alone. Was it a hallucination? The ocean roared behind them.

"Hello, Jon."  
“Listen, I know you want to be here, I know you think it is safer… and maybe it is. But we need you. _I need you._ ”  
Martin stared at him with empty eyes. He could feel it. He could feel Jons hands. He could hear his voice. Was he really there? Was he… was he really not alone? Was this a dream?  
“No… no you don’t.” Jon never needed Martin. He was not the right person. He was useless and Jon did not really need him. Did not want him.  
“Not really.”  
  
“Martin… Martin, look at me.”  
There is a hand on his cheek now and the waves are clashing high. He dares to look into Jon's eyes. Dares to believe that the man is really there. Dares to believe that Jon came for him.  
“Look at me and tell me what you see.”  
And he did. Martin looked at Jon. He saw the pain in the dark eyes of the man he loved. He loved him. He had not forgotten. He had left so much behind when he was here. But he remembered Jon. Every moment.  
“I see… I see you, Jon.”  
The colors returns to Jon's face. Martin had not even realized that even he had been grey, everything so grey and dull, for such a long time, that now it was so overwhelming to… **see**. The brown of Jons eyes, the soft pink of his lips. Before he could think, before he or the Lonely could stop him, he pulled Jon towards him and held him in a tight embrace. He felt. He finally really felt again, warmth and love and he could feel his heart beating against his chest.   
  
“I was on my own… all on my own…”  
“Not anymore.” Jon murmured into his shoulder, arms wrapped around Martins back tightly and not letting him go. So warm and so _real_ .  
“Come on,” he finally said. “Let’s go home.”  
“How?” For a moment, the hopelessness returned. The fog had thickened around them, he could not even see the sea anymore. How would they ever find their way out?  
  
“Don’t worry… I know the way.”  
And somehow Martin believed him. He really believed.   
He was not alone.   
Jon was there. 


End file.
